Severed and Slain
by OhForAMuse
Summary: With a severed soul, an incomplete memory, and an inescapable debt, Severus Snape must embark upon the next phase of his life. This story contains Slash.


_I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed Dumbledore… _

Languishing, bodiless, encased by metal, and fixated on the last life he'd taken. This was the predicament that Severus Snape found himself in. He was unsure of how long he'd been like this. An hour? A year? Was the concept of time even a factor, when you no longer existed, at least, as far as nature was concerned? He also had very little understanding of how he'd ended up like this. There were only two memories of his former life that he could clearly distinguish from the constant disillusionment, and the cause of his current predicament was not one of them.

One of these memories concerned the three words constantly streaming through his consciousness. _I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed Dumbledore… _His recollection of the event was nearly flawless. The only detail he could not remember was the _why? _Why had he taken the life of the only man who had ever shown him any kindness? The man who had provided him with a reason to live after the tragic death, the horrific loss, the…

_Lily Evans… Lily Evans is dead… My Lily…_

His second memory was far more painful. He remembered green eyes so full of life they could summon feelings he had never realized he was capable of. Then these eyes turned to darkess. A crumpled body. A cold, tear-stained face. His beloved, dead… This last part was not a memory, so much as a scene he had pictured, without being able to control its forceful entry, a thousand times. He had not been there the night Lily Evans died. Yet he could not help seeing her rotting corpse periodically flash within his psyche….

_My Lily is dead… Lily Evans… He's murdered my Lily… NO! _

It was too painful. He chose to switch back to the only other memory he had. One that also tormented him, left him wishing he could cease to harbour any thought at all… but that was far less painful than any memories of Lily Evans.

_I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed Dumbledore… I've killed-_

Suddenly, something changed. His bodiless being felt a violent pull, as if he was being sucked out of whatever container held him. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he experienced vision. Brilliant light sparkled in his view, interrupting his monotonous recitation. But how could that be? How could he experience vision, when he had no eyes?

Then... sound. He heard whispers, strangely familiar ones, coming from what felt like every direction. His reasoning told me the whispers were soft, as whispers naturally are, but his senses told him they were deafening, smothering, painful. Senses? He had senses?

Next was feeling. A cold hard floor beneath his… body? He could feel the weight of limbs, and the throb of his pounding heart.

_Sit up! _hissed one of the voices. He tried, but with great difficulty at first. This body was strange… it was not at all like what he would have expected a body to feel like. Coordinating his muscles to support his own weight took immense effort, and he had difficulty concentrating amidst the onslaught of stimulation he was experiencing.

As the upper half of his body slowly rose to a sitting position, his hands behind him pushing off the stone floor, two faces came into his field of vision. One of those faces he recognized from his last memory. The boy was there when he murdered Dumbledore. In fact, he'd murdered Dumbledore when the boy couldn't. The other face felt incredibly familiar, and strongly resembled the first. He was an older man with long silvery blonde hair and a tired expression. What had they done to him to give him a body? What was happening?

After staring at the two faces a long while, he shifed his focus to what stood behind them. A horrified gasp escaped his throat, and for a moment he thought he was going to loose conciousness. Staring back at him was a new face- one reflected in a looking glass. He was gazing upon the most repulsing image he had ever seen. He was gazing upon himself.

Dead, cracked skin hung upon what was little more than a skull. Bloody tissue was clearly visible in the cracks, and oozed slowly, dripping down his chin. His eyes, open wide in shock, were a tangle of red bloodshot vessels that looked as if they could rupture at any point. There was little more to this body than bone and rotting flesh. What had these two people done? Why had they trapped him like this, when he could have stayed forever more encased in a metallic prison?

The older man thrust a golden goblet towards him. "Drink," he instructed. Without thinking, Severus obeyed, bringing the cup to his lips and consuming the thick black liquid inside.

Immediately his dead flesh began to bubble, as if it was being melted in a fiery cauldron. Choking, he fell from his sitting position back upon the floor, writhing and clawing at his transforming flesh. Before he had time to process what was happening, it was over, and he was lying numbly at the two men's feet.

_Sit up! _the man hissed at him again. As he obeyed, he looked back into the mirror.

This time, instead of a rotting corpse peering back at him, he saw sleek black hair, jet black eyes, and a long, hooked nose. This was the body he remembered.

"Welcome back, Severus," said the man.

Slowly, memories began to trickle back into his awareness. The cold eyes boring into his suddenly became recognizable, and a name made its way to his lips.

"Hello... Lucius."


End file.
